


Destined

by Poetgirl616



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5260232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetgirl616/pseuds/Poetgirl616
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discontinued! Under rewrite!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Natalia and Damarys, which is pronounced duh-mare-iss**

_**~Destined~** _

**No P. O. V**

I huddled my five foot nine inch frame further into my thin black jacket, seeking warmth and shelter from the steadily falling rain. My shoulder blade length blonde hair tucked messily underneath my hood. 

I was temporarily blinded by a pair of headlights before the car raced off, out of the parking lot. 

I walked a little faster, keeping an eye out for cars and puddles. I would rather avoid the added discomfort of internal squishy lake shoes. 

Another car sped past, splashing my already soaked body with more water. 

 _Figures_. I thought sourly. _Up your aft, you jerk_!

I never thought this would be my life.

Growing up, I always imagined the future as a bright place full of light and happiness and endless possibilies.

I could do anything, be anything, I wanted without limitations. My parents would still be disgustingly in love and we would all be together in the house with the broken shutter. They were my two best friends, and I had all the time in the world with them. 

That all ended with a trip to the south to visit a relative. 

Sometimes, car accidents can change everything. One trip was all it took to take my best friends from me and move me halfway across the country to live with an aunt I had never even met. 

My name is Natalia Elizabeth Raynes and this is my story. 

* * *

I waved at a few coworkers, pushing open the factory's double doors. I saw the patter of rain on the parking lot and groaned in dismay. 

It looks like I was walking home in the rain. Again. 

The route to my apartment was riddled with well traveled streets and plenty of chances for a good samiritan to pick up walkers. There should be no reason for me to be stuck in the rain, right?

As if in answer, a passing car flew by, upsetting a puddle of water and proceeding to splash my already wet form with more water.

Wrong. 

I just worked the equivalent of a shift and a half, I felt beyond tired and sore. I wanted to be home, in my small apartment, on my battered tan couch and watch Transformers movies until I passed out.

A camaro that looked like an exact replica of Bumblebee sped by, having the courtesy to at least swerve around the puddle.

Well, it was better than nothing.

I'd gotten another half mile before a familiar dark blue Ford 4X4 pick up truck slowed to a stop and rolled down the window.

An elderly man with silver threaded through his dark ponytail and a kind smile leaned over the driver's seat. "I ended up having to stay over, too. Still in the place beside Fair Avenue?"

"Yes, a text would have been nice, Adam."

"Phone died, forgot to charge it at lunch."

"Yeah, yeah." I aanswered, dragging my soaked butt into the passengers seat. "What has Dresden been up to today?" 

Adam Durgen has been giving me rides to and from work off and on for the past few months. He listens to audiobooks usually during the car ride and he introduced me to The Dresden Files. 

It was actually quite good. 

"Oh, you know, the usual. Running, casting, scaling down fourteen story buildings during a blizzard and avoiding capture." He answered like he was commenting on the weather. 

I blinked. The first two were expected, the third was new. "Really? How the hell did he get himself into that mess?"

* * *

 I sagged gracefully onto my couch. _Thank goodness I am finally home._

I sighed, snuggling deeper into the battered cushions with my trusty faded blue quilt and pressed play on my DVD player.

I dozed off to the rumble of Optimus Prime's voice as he told Sam about Cybertron.

Oddly enough, I dreamt of a destroyed, barren world with dead giants strewn over everything in sight.

I couldn't remember much of what I had seen when I woke, just fuzzy impressions that I felt I should recognize.

I shook the thought away, focusing on finding I. B. Profin and breakfast.

I glanced at the clock. _Or maybe dinner_ , I amended.

I settled for a compromise, fried frozen shrimp and hash browns. A glass of ice cold orange juice completed the mixed meal.

My computer dinged from across the room, most likely an email waiting for me.

I rinsed the dishes and set them in the dish washer, before padding on bare feet to the living room. I opened my laptop the rest of the way and clicked on the wiggling envelope on the screen.

It was a message from Damarys. The necklace that I wanted was now available locally, which excited me immensely. It was a necklace many transformers fans would fight each other to have. A shard of the Allspark on a thin, silver chain.

My inner fan girl squealed, while my cooler outer self merely wrote a single sentence response, thanking her for informing me.

That necklace would be mine, if I had to blow half my savings to get it.

* * *

 

I grinned, triumphantly donning the Allspark replica around my neck as I left the store. I ignored the glares of the fans who couldn't afford to buy the only remaining necklace, they'd find another somewhere else. My brand new Transformers t-shirts were carefully folded and bagged, under my watchful eye.

Now, to return to the apartment and put them away. I would most likely wear one for grocery shopping later, Damarys was meeting me and I wanted to show her my favourite shirt. She was also a Transformers fan, but not as crazy as I was. She was a southern girl from Louisiana, and had been my best friend and co-author to my Transfromers fan fiction story Destiny or Desire. It starred Bumblebee and our own invention,the fun loving college student, Tess Miller.

Speaking of stories, I had an update of my favourite fan fiction to read when I got back. A girl got transformed into a Cybertronian femme and worked to save the Autobots and their human allies from their fate. I was anxious to know how my favourite set of twins would react to the news that she was rescued by a former Decepticon.

I was lucky enough to catch a bus heading in the direction I needed. I had trouble ignoring the feeling in my gut, a sort of twisting anxiety. No one was bothering me, or making me uncomfortable, so it wasn't the people on the bus.

The bus slowed unexpectedly.

I frowned, glancing around in confusion. We were in the middle of the street. Why would the driver stop in the middle of the street? Some people stood from their seats to investigate, I was among them. We were in the middle of Sunset Drive, just past the pet store. Did the driver realize he needed to shop for his pet or something? I wondered, my eyebrows scrunching together. It seemed no one was paying attention to the other side of the bus. They really should have. . .

The whole bus jerked, the screeching crunch of metal against metal accompanied with squealing tires caught our attention. Unfortunately, we didn't have enough time to react. Screams, shattering glass and pain were the last things I knew before darkness consumed me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, this is my first Transformers fanfiction. I am no medical genius, so I did my best with this chapter. Also, thank you to Ratchet's Sparkling, sassykitkat and Skyress98 for adding this story to their favorites. This one is dedicated to you, awesome fans!

**Disclaimer: nothing familiar is mine. I only own my OCs.**

Colors. 

So many colors; brown, green, violet, red, black, blue, purple and yellow. Many more in shades I couldn't pinpoint locked in a riot of movement; swirling, writhing, dancing and bursting all around me. Over me. _Through_ me. 

I couldn't look fast enough to capture them all, so much was going on at once-too many directions to turn.

My hair was blown back, but there was no wind-no air of any kind. 

_Okay. This is cool, but definitely weird._

The largest blotch of black I could see was rocketing right toward me, deeper and darker than anything I had ever seen in living memory. 

 _What the hell? How is that thing even_ moving?! _What did I smoke before bed?_

It was closer now, and gaining speed? What? 

_Hey. Whoa, whoa, whoa! No!_

I threw my hands over my face as it _swallowed_ me, surrounding me in nothing but pitch black darkness. 

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Ugh. What the hell was with the fragging beeping? I mentally growled, since I couldn't physically without hurting myself.

Everything hurt. It felt like the Fallen had punt kicked me from here to Cybertron at least fifteen times.

I barely cracked my eyes open, or rather eye, seeing as my right eye was swollen shut. _Ow, ow, double **OW**_! I closed it again, it was too bright where I was.

By the super clean smell and the annoyingly frequent beeps, I'd hazard a guess that it was a hospital.

Fuzzy flashes of the bus and bleeding people strewn over a street crossed my brain. _Shit.That really happened._

"Good to see you awake, Miss Raynes." A male voice spoke up near me.

I groaned in response. _Too loud_.

Nothing hurt in my weird, trippy dream and I wanted to go back to before I woke up in this Pit.

"You've been in an accident, Miss Raynes. I suggest you lie as still as possible, your right arm and leg are broken. There are three bruised ribs on your left side and you sustained damage to the right side of your face, mostly bruises." The doctor, I think his name tag said Morgan? Anyway, he turned the page of my chart, before turning kind eyes on me. He had wrinkles around them, brown eyes, and his red hair had streaks of grey through it. "However, your eye will most likely be swollen for some time. Your custom contact lense scraped against the eye and surgery was needed to repair a tear as well as remove the lense."

I blinked my good eye, suppressing the urge to wince when the action hurt. "H-how long will I have to stay in the hospital?"

My throat felt like someone shoved a gallon of sand down it and finished it off with a sand paper scrub. My voice sounded terrible, no wonder the doctor winced in sympathy.

"Your stay will be between two to three weeks, so we can keep a close observation on that eye and make sure it doesn't develope infection." He replied, setting the chart down. "Would you like some water? It might help your throat, if only a little."

"Yes, please." I answered, wishing I could get it myself.

He carefully placed a straw in the left corner of my mouth and patiently held the glass while I drank. I hated having to ask for help, and the fact that I needed it at all, but it wasn't his fault. He was kind enough to do it, instead of making me wait for a nurse to do it, like another hospital I went to years ago.

"Rest, I'll have a nurse check on you in a little while." With another kind smile, he left me to myself.

I drifted in and out in a fitful sleep, until a nurse came to administer another dose of Morphine, just before it wore off. Bless her!

I welcomed the peaceful darkness of sleep.

* * *

**The next day**

"Oh, Hon! Here, let me help you!" Damarys fussed with the pillows, bluffing them for the fifteenth time.

I sighed, rolling my good eye.

I couldn't snap at her, the five foot two blonde has been a gift from Primus.

She had faced her fear of flying to race to the hospital once she heard about the accident. Which was a big deal since she was only one of six survivors of a bad plane crash four years ago.

I had actually met her at a group therapy session just over three years ago.

We hit it off and have been friends ever since. 

She dropped everything, come back from a vacation and imediately glued herself to my side to help me with anything I needed. She out done herself, blending home cooked meals and fruits so I could eat them through a straw. Bless the sassy southern firecracker.

"Thanks." I mumbled, still tired since my morphine wore off and woke me up at four a.m.

It was now six.

"The nurse told me that a police man is coming to talk to you today." She commented, straightening the edge of my blanket. "He came by yesterday, but the doctor wouldn't let him in. According to Doctor Morgan, you were dosed highly, and you wouldn't have been lucid enough to answer anything."

I groaned. I did not want to deal with this crap. I wanted to sleep.

Preferably for another few days. 

"Now, I'll have none of that, missy. I know you don't feel well, but the nice man has waited to talk to you last. Patiently, I might add." She stood, her hands planted on her hips, silently daring me to argue.

To pit with that! That would take up energy I didn't have at the moment. I also knew better. 

"Fine," I grumbled.

She nodded firmly, that was the end of that.

Not much later, a young man walked into the room. He couldn't have been older than twenty one, fresh out of the academy, I'd guess. He was about six foot one, had brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Miss Raynes, my name is Officer Jake Wyatt. I understand you were in the accident that occurred on Sunset Drive?" He began, hand poised over his notepad thingy 

What the pit kind of question was that?! If he was here to talk to me, he should know that!

I glared as well as I could with one eye. "Yes."

"Can you tell me what happened?" He asked calmly, not bothered by my withering glare. "Any details you could give would be helpful."

"I don't really know what happened, exactly." I frowned, concentrating. "I had gotten on after a bit of shopping at uh Washington Avenue, I believe. We stopped at least once after to pick up a couple."

"What happened next?" He prompted gently. 

I squeezed my good eye shut, thinking back.

"We-we stopped in the middle of the street."

"Why?" He asked eagerly, typing something on his data pad.

"I don't know. He just stopped without saying why or announcing anything. Some of us were trying to figure out what was going on, when it happened."

"The accident." 

"Yes."

"Is there anything else you can remember?" Officer Wyatt questioned, hand poised to type. He turned his hazel eyes on me, watching my reactions.

"I remember the sounds, but I didn't see what hit us." I sighed. I couldn't do what he needed.

"What did the driver of the bus look like?"

"Um. . . He looked about thirty five, I suppose. Average height and build. Brown hair? Maybe. Uh, grey eyes, I think."

"Is 2613 your usual bus?"

"No. I usually walk, but I've rode the bus a few times. I don't think I've seen him before, though I'm not sure. I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault. I'll leave you to your rest, thank you for your time."

I was frustrated, I should know these things! He needed the information to catch whoever ran the bus over. I hissed as I accidentally moved my arm, pulling at my bruised ribs painfully.

"Easy, Hon. You shouldn't move, doctors orders." Damarys reminded me, making me aware that I had forgotten she was in the room.

I immediately felt guilty for that. I grimaced.

"Are you hungry? I brought in some blended mashed potatoes and porksteak." She asked, getting a divided container out of her cooler.

I shot her a small smile. "Thanks, but I'm okay. Maybe later."

"Okay, just let me know."

I thought over everything that happened. Why was it that the first time I ride a bus in half a year, it got into a wreck? Did the universe hate me that much? I mean, a wreck, really? Out of all the buses in the city, what were the odds that it would be my bus?

I wished I was at home, watching Transformers Revenge of the Fallen, and never got on that fragging bus.


	3. Chapter 3

Have you ever had one of those days where you want to forgo your gentler nature and rip someone's head off? Yes? Well, today was _mine_.

* * *

I growled, frustrated and quite frankly, _pissed off_. "I've told you everything I know!"

Officer Wyatt pointed to the document and pictures he held in his other hand. "I have checked, double checked and _triple checked_ my information, Miss Raynes. No one matching your description used the name Natalia Raynes on that bus the day of your accident."

"Then you're wrong!"

"I have fifteen confirmations on this."

"I am not making this up! My name is Natalia Elizabeth Raynes, I was born in Fairfield, Illinois. My birthday is December second 1990!" I grimaced as my shouting hurt my ribs. "Look, I may have been confused about what happened after we stopped, but I am clear about who I am."

Of all the nerve! I know what happened and who I am! I was there, officer Wyatt wasn't. 

I had been woken at an ungodly hour when the morphine wore off, drowning me in agony until the nurse came in to administer my missed dose. Then, when I was close to falling back asleep, he comes into my room and all but accuses me of lying to him! Telling me this bull about me not being there, he had reports and supposedly no one else saw me. Ugh!

Violent and tempting images flashed across my brain, if I hadn't been injured I would most likely act them out. Stupid fragging cop!

"Miss Raynes, they found no means of official identification on your person or among your belongings. It was an embroidered hoodie that led us to the conclusion of your name." 

"It _is_ my name! Why aren't you listening?! I must have lost my wallet during the accident."

"The witnesses?" Officer Wyatt prompted me gently.

"Must be confused or lying. I was on that bus during the accident, I gave the driver my renewed pass with my name!" I shouted, frustrated.

"Perhaps it would be best if you leave, officer Wyatt." Doctor Morgan spoke firmly, fixing the policeman with a stern and very displeased look. "You are upsetting my patient."

I merely blinked at the doctor for a moment. When had he come in? I didn't hear him enter the room.

"Very well. I will return when she is feeling better." Officer Wyatt commented before leaving.

I glared after him, hoping the door hit his aft on his way out. Really hard.

"Well, I suppose while I am here, I could examine you." Doctor Morgan commented, looking over the chart. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fan-fragging-tastic, thanks for asking." I snipped sarcastically. My pain had increased, along with my irritation and fatigue, making me waspish. I winced, feeling bad afterward. "Sorry. The meds wore off."

"That's understandable, I will have a nurse come in as soon as possible." He replied calmly, beginning the exam.

"Do you believe me?" I asked, tired and feeling a bit off center. 

"I believe you were in an accident and are under a tremendous amount of stress." He answered carefully.

I sighed. Great. 

"Do you know what they did with my stuff?" I asked curiously, honestly worried about the answer.

My bag held all my spare keys and ememergency cash. The clothes were the only prints available locally.

"Your possessions are being processed in the downstairs lab. The police asked us to check for certain substances on the untouched clothing." Dr. Morgan answered.

"Like what? Drugs? They think I hallucinated or something? That I'm some crazy druggie chick that doesn't know who she is?" I demanded angrily.

Seriously?! What did I have to do to prove my identity? 

He shrugged apologetically.

Another part of my brain processed the other part of his words. 

He must have noticed my flinch, for he hurried to reassure me. "They have assured me they will not cut or tear anything, and your belongings will be returned as soon as they are cleared."

I sighed in relief, thanking Primus. "Thank you, Doctor Morgan."

He smiled kindly at me, I admit that I was growing fond of the man. He was a good doctor, and a good man.

"I would like to take a nap, if I could, before the next check up."

"Of course, sleep well."

"I'll do my best."

I tried to smile as he closed the door behind him, careful not to make any noise, even though I hadn't fallen asleep yet. I hope this will all end soon, even though a feeling in my gut tells me that it was only going to get longer.

* * *

 I glared at Officer Kohn and Officer Wyatt. 

"What is your earliest memory as Natalia Raynes?" Officer Kohn asked, pen aand paper ready to record my words.

"Gee, if I had to go off the top of my head, it would be August sixteenth, 1996. I was with a babysitter, my parents went to pick up my cousin and her newborn from the hospital. They never came home." I snarled, tired of the bullshit.

Sympathy, understanding and reluctance flashed across Officer John's face.

Officer Wyatt fidgeted with his belt.

"What?" I snapped, irritated.

"Miss, Natalia Elizabeth Raynes died in a car accident with Donna Lorene Raynes and Arthur  Reginald Raynes on August sixteenth, 1996." Officer Kohn said, mouth set grimly. 

The air left my lungs. 

What the hell was he talking about? I wasn't there-I was at home! Angelina watched me, she gave me banana pudding for dessert not ten minutes before the phone rang. 

"No. No, you're wrong." I argued firmly. "You-I wasn't- I was at home with the babysitter when my parents were killed. Angelina answered the phone, she told me-" 

"This was provided by the Orange County Coroners office." Officer Wyatt interrupted me, setting a folder on my bedside table. 

Frowning, I opened the folder. There, nestled in the flaps, was an official death certificate. 

Name:  _ **Natalia Elizabeth Raynes**_

Age: _**6**_

Location: _ **Atlanta, Georgia**_

Time: _ **7:16 p.m**_

Date: _**August 16, 1996**_

I stared at the ink. My entire body felt cold, the paper trembled slightly. 

It couldn't be right. It wasn't possible. I  had memories with my parents, of the time after the accident, of living with my aunt. 

_No. There must be a mistake of some kind. I would know if I was-if I wasn't me. I would have found out by now. Right?_

"I don't understand." I whispered.

"We believe you may have survived a traumatic accident of a similar nature on the sixteenth, but an area of your brain was damaged. In your mind and memories, you are Natalia. You may have known her and simply confused your identities." Officer Kohn supplied sympathetically. 

My head hurt and my mind reeled. I wasn't sure what to think. 

"What do you suggest?" Doctor Morgan asked quietly. 

"We can continue calling her Natalia as it is the only name she knows, and anything else will hurt more than help her." Officer Kohn answered, standing. 

I shoved the death certificate at him. I didn't want to look at it anymore. 

**FOUR WEEKS LATER**

I kept my name, but haven't been able to make it 'official' yet.

I didn't fully believe that story the police cooked up. If I had supposedly died, why would I remember my life? Why would I remember before and after the accident? 

I was becoming increasingly frustrated and annoyed with all of this crap. 

Things had gotten very confusing after the visits by the police and the big reveal.

Two weeks ago, I realized that I hadn't talked to Damarys about any updates to Destiny or Desire, so I started talking about where I remembered leaving off. Damarys stared at me like I'd grown a second head for a few moments, before politely asking me if I was trying to ask her to help me write a novel.

What the pit?

She was my co-author, how the pit could she not know what I was talking about, right?

I brought up the Autobots and Tess, but she still looked at me with a blank expression.

I tried to talk to her about the movies, and even went so far as to Google them on my laptop, which she had presented to me the day before. I thought for sure if I showed her what I was talking about, she'd stop the crazy charades she was playing.

Nothing.

The only transformers I found was a power thingy for homes.

I say again. What the pit?

That wasn't all, some girls from work stopped by and I tried to talk to them about spoilers for Tranformers: Rise of Galvatron.

Confused blinks.

I showed them my necklace and they gushed over its cuteness, a little more forced and animated that was natural. Damarys just politely nodded from her spot on the other side of the room and said it looked pretty.

I even attempted to use Allison's crush on Bumblebee as a topic. They gave me the same clueless stares I got from Damarys.

I was beyond frustrated. What the pit was _going on_?

* * *

  **NEXT DAY**

Damarys held the extra bag containing my laptop as I slipped out of the taxi, soaking in the view. My apartment had never looked so beautiful to me.

I ignored her amused grin as I practically broke down the door to get inside. I carefully sat the bag with my Transformers t-shirts on the couch and walked through the rooms, reaquainting myself with the place.

Everything looked bigger and more battered than I remembered. . .

I settled in, putting brand new clothes away and hanging up my now month and a half out of style t-shirts.

I didn't think it was possible, but this week got even more fragging aggravating and strange.

I powered up my laptop and signed into my account on fanfiction, getting ready to read all the updates I'd most likely missed on my ffvorites list. Maybe add some chapters to From Cybertron to Earth and Destiny or Desire.

However, I hit a major snag in that plan.

Transformers wasn't in the movies category. I checked the animated and cartoon categories. 

Nothing. 

I growled, angrily slamming my computer shut. I didn't know what the fragging pit was going on, but I would get to the bottom of it.

First, I posted as many chapters of my story as I could under the original works section, using a picture of my t-shirts as a cover image.

Now, I'd sleep and think about my next move.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: nothing aside from my OC's belong to me.**

_Desert landscape, giant metal bodies skewered on spears of jagged metal. Harsh laughter._

_Fear, running._

_Chains, a large room with devices made to maim and inflict various amounts of pain._

_Hard clicks and whirls._

_A reply._

_An enraged roar._

_Screaming, pain._

_A large, metal form and pleading, pain filled blue optics. A laughing figure with cruel, glowing red optics and a vicious sneer. A slash of blades and another scream._

_I stood, helpless, as the bot was injured again and again. I couldn't move to help._

_The pleading optics turned to me, silently begging._

_My heart clenched and I just wanted to take it all away. All of it._

* * *

I opened my eyes, blinking away the swirling images. I couldn't remember specifics, I could never recall precise details of a dream after I woke, just vague impressions.

I did my business in the bathroom and went downstairs for a cup of life.

I yawned, scratching through my hair lightly with my free hand. Naturally, my right was curled around a cup of coffee, five shots of milk and at least three spoons of sugar. I took a sip of the steaming brew. Hmmmm, heaven.

I finished the coffee and showered, enjoying the hot spray of water on my skin. I was extremely grateful for Damarys. She had called my boss and gotten me an extra day off. I could have a little time to get used to things again before I had to throw myself back into work and walking home every night.

I sat in front of my laptop, wanting to create a banner for a story idea before I forgot. I finished, pleased with my handiwork, and logged into fanfiction to upload it to my image manager. For the hell of it, I checked on my Transformers story while I waited for the site to accept my newest image.

I growled in annoyance. It wasn't there. Deleted, again.

I frowned, reaching down to fiddle with my necklace, only to freeze, body rigid.

My necklace was not around my neck.

I know I went to bed with it on, and having weird dreams. My chest felt weird this morning. I just tacked it for gas build up. Where the pit was my necklace?

I hurried out of the chair and searched all the rooms I'd frequented since I came home. Nothing. No trace that the necklace even existed.

Frustrated, I stripped my shirt off and stomped over to my closet to put on a more publicly appropriate shirt. I would look outside, retrace my steps until I found it.

This whole situation was getting ridiculous and very, very annoying.

I slammed the front door, stomping down the sidewalk, keeping an eye out for shiny reflections. Nope.

I growled, continuing toward the streets I drove past yesterday with Damarys, my final destination being the shop I bought the clothes from. I thought I had it when I went to sleep, but I could have been wrong and dropped it in the store without realizing. That kind of thing happens a lot more than you think.

I walked into the bookstore, sighing at the familiar sound of the bell above the door.

"Natalia, what brings you in here again? Rethink buying that book?" The shopkeeper, Lori asked with a smile.

"Hey, Lori. I'm actually here because lost a necklace and was hoping that you might have seen it." I held my breath, hoping that she'd say yes.

They fell when she only shook her head.

"No, Hon, I haven't seen any necklaces. I'm sorry I couldn't help you." Her expression was regretful and sincere enough for me to believe her.

"That's alright, I'll just keep looking. Thanks anyway." I left and continued my search.

Now what?

I tried every place I could think of, stopping to eat or use the restroom. I saw people I knew from work or somewhere else around town and asked each of them if they'd seen my necklace.

No one had.

Scrap.

By the time the sun began to set I was ready to give up. I hadn't found it by now, so chances are I won't at all.

I arrived home, frustrated and upset that I couldn't find my necklace. Someone most likely found it lying somewhere and took it home with them.

I needed a bath to help me try to relax. It had been a long, horrible, day.

I ran the water, as hot as I could stand it, and poured a whole lot of bubbles in.

I'd indulge in the small pleasure tonight, though I didn't do it often. It wasn't every day that I lost the only replica of the Allspark that seemed to be in existence.

I slipped off my clothes and padded over to my closet to grab my robe. I froze when I caught of something in the mirror that was attached to the door.

The designs that were etched on the Allspark necklace were on my chest. The hieroglyphics and symbols were right there, on my body. I stared at my chest, and what was on it, wide eyed.

What the pit?

How had that happened?

When had it happened?


	5. O. M. P!!!

I attempted to focus my breathing. Okay, okay, okay. I'm okay.

I have the symbols of an Allspark shard on my chest.

Oh, scrap. I have a fragging tattoo of the fragging Allspark. On. My. Chest!

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

Holy, slag!

My mind spun like crazy. If I had the marks on me, that means it was a real shard. However, that can't be possible, because the Autobots and Decepticons aren't real. They are part of a movie, a made up figment of some cool persons imagination.

That's the end of it.

But, if that was true, why would no one else know about them?

Everything that happened since the accident, my friends who had loved Transformers, suddenly didn't know anything involving their favorites characters. My best friend and co-author had no idea what Destiny or Desire was, when she wrote half of it! All the strange behaviour with my computer and fanfiction sites.

It was adding up, but the solution was absolutely nuts! Impossible!

Then why was it making more sense than any logical conclusion I scrambled to come up with?

My head was beginning to hurt, the stress and uncertainty were getting to me.

I groaned, pressing my palms into my eye sockets. I couldn't do this right now.

I grabbed the robe, more viciously than was necessary, and marched back to the bathroom. I lay it over the empty space on the towel rack, beside my favourite blue towel.

I lowered myself into the water and let the soothing heat wash over me, temporarily cleansing me of thought and stress. I hummed in appreciation, sliding a wash cloth over my skin as I let the bubbles and water relax me.

For this moment, nothing else existed.

* * *

 I glared at the screen of my laptop, tempted to hit it or throw it across the room.

Ugh! I know I uploaded the story! I fumed, gritting my teeth.

I flipped to my other open tab and read what I'd dug up on the bus driver, or lack thereof. The company logs stated that another man was on that bus, but I saw him! This Caleb wasn't there, the other man was.

The question was, how the pit did they get so mixed up? Wouldn't they know if an imposter hopped on a bus and drove innocent civilians around the city?

I growled, annoyed, both at the company and the illusive driver. Where the pit could he have gone?

I couldn't find anything on the guy! It was like. . . .it was like he never existed.

A strange feeling shot through my gut and I fought to remain in control of my emotions. The ridiculous theory of this being a different reality or whatever was making more sense, I didn't like it.

I had to get out of the house before I drove myself over the brink of insanity. I could see the thin line and the way I was going, I'd cross it soon. Very, very soon.

* * *

The mall was crowded, I cringed as another child wailed when their mother denied them a sugary snack or treat. Now I remember why I hated the place, but it was better than driving myself crazy at home over a theory. Anything is better than that, even being here.

Ugh.

I strolled aimlessly through the building, looking at everything but not buying anything. Nothing caught my eye, so to speak.

Mostly, I was people watching. I made a little game out of it, making up stories about them. I'd cover what they were looking for, where they came from, what kind of car they drove, if they were together or not. You know, the basics. I'd even given them stupid voices like someone who was reading to a child.

It's terrible, yes, but I was bored and hated the mall. I needed something to entertain myself in the mind numbing menace.

That was when I saw _him_.

He was different from the other men, hidden secrets. He had a harsh, military face that had been weather beaten and wind burnt. He had multiple scars, a line across his eyebrow and some small puckered knicks around and over his lips. His hair in the standard crew cut and peppered with grey. He was kinda average height and built like a dragging tank, intimidating and extremely no nonsense aura going on. Even his clothes screamed tough guy and don't fuck with me or you'll get fucked up.

All these things were definitely eye catching and interesting, but they weren't what drew my attention to him. It was his eyes.

His eyes were glowing, Autobot blue.

Oh. My. Primus!

I blinked and rubbed my eyes vigorously. There was no way! I had to be hallucinating it. No one had eyes like that, it wasn't humanly possible. Unless. . . . I opened my eyes and took a second look. Yep, still Autobot blue.

I stood, frozen, staring wide eyed at the tank of a man. No fragging way! It was a real, honest to Primus Autobot hologram!

I must have emitted some sort of sound to alert him to my presence, because his head whipped around, impossibly blue eyes locking onto me. I backed away from the intensity in those eyes, the instinct to flee such scrutiny causing me to move. I accidentally ran into the column behind me, jarring my blouse, I adjusted it absent mindedly. I tensed when his eyes flicked down, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was looking at my breasts.

I followed his gaze, wanting to double check as well as look at something besides his intimidating form. The adjustment of my blouse had also repositioned the opening of my collar. I had unbuttoned the first three buttons to decrease sweating between the girls, and now he had a glimpse of the top of the hieroglyphics on my chest. The Allspark hieroglyphics.

Ah, scrap.

"Hey, you!" The tank called, moving forward. Violence oozed off every movement.

 _Yeah, time to go!_ I thought, spinning in place and bolting like a frightened doe. An awkward analogy considering he looked like a hunter.

"Stop! Hey, I'm talking to you!" He bellowed, voice as hard as his arm muscles looked.

Thundering footsteps echoed in the walkway behind me, he was now following me. This only encouraged me to move faster. Times like this made me wish I'd participated more in gym. I turned at the nearest left, looking for a way to lose him fast. He could catch up if I cramped or suddenly had a stitch in my side.

My mind worked double time, searching for an answer to my dilemma. An idea sparked, flooding me with resolve and adrenaline.

I ran for the square of space between floor of stores, hoping against hope I was right. Fifteen seconds later, I was ready to kiss someone, it was thriving. I thrust myself into the throng, pushing through bodies for a speedy passage. My hope was that the Autobot hologram would lose me in the crowd until I could make my escape or find a good hiding spot.

I found a nearby exit and dashed for it, heading for my car as soon as my feet hit the asphalt of the parking lot. I peeled out and drove as cool as a cucumber for home.

I took the time to calm myself, catching my breath and slow my racing heart. My sides and chest ached, my legs felt like someone stabbed them with hot fire pokers repeatedly and thoroughly. I pressed play on my CD player, letting Depeche Mode fill the car and my thoughts.

I would not think about what happened in that mall. I had not seen an Autobot. Nope.

I drank two and a half bottles of wine, sat my aft on my couch and blared Depeche Mode through the speakers of my television.

I dreamt strange dreams that night. Glowing blue eyes haunted me.

 _It begins_ , a voice whispered in the mind.


	6. Fragging Great!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or its characters. I only own Natalia, Damarys, and Doctor Morgan.**

I frowned at the alarm clock that bleeped repeatedly through the apartment. Damn thing wouldn't shut up!

My head throbbed and my mouth felt like I'd tried to swallow a whole package of cotton balls.

Bleck.

I forced myself off of the couch, staggering to the bathroom to take a leak first and foremost. Next, I made a beeline for the kitchen to fix a glass of water with some aspirin. My head was really giving me a what for now that I was moving around.

I crawled into bed to sleep off the rest of my hangover. That usually worked for me.

Everything else could wait another six hours.

* * *

"I'm _fine_ , I haven't fallen off the edge of the planet or anything. Jeez." I rolled my eyes at the sassy southern girl at the other end of the line. The way she was acting, you'd think I'd disappeared for a year or something. I had only taken a nap, people.

"I called you multiple times, Nat, and you didn't answer." Damarys fretted in her accented voice.

"I was asleep, Damarys, I couldn't answer you." I replied, wanting to hang up but I didn't dare. Not after the last time.

"Are you sure you're alright? You've been acting strangely since the accident, Nat." She murmured in her concerned tone.

"I'm sure. I just needed to sleep off a hangover." A beep signaled my Hungry Man was done. "Hey, my dinners done, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"If I don't hear from you by noon, I'll come over there and kick your skinny behind."

"Okay, okay. Night."

"Bye."

I gratefully hung up and carefully took my steaming tray of chicken, corn and brownie out of the microwave. Nutritious, right? Heh! It was delicious and that's all I cared about. And hot. It was very, very hot.

I sat at the table with my laptop while I waited for my food to cool down to a level that would burn blisters all over my mouth. I had decided to scroll through fan fiction again to see if I couldn't find anything on the Bots. I wanted to be absolutely sure that I wasn't going nuts. There had to be something somewhere.

A sighting. A picture. A story that someone somewhere made up.

Something.

I ate my dinner as quickly as possible and threw away the tray.

I searched all over the internet, until I felt like my eyes were going to implode, then closed the laptop to force myself to take a break.

I'd found stories, just not the kind I had meant. Stories of sightings and conspiracy theories on a site created by alien enthusiasts. I'd found a good two handfuls that fit the descriptions of what would happen if giant alien robots duked it out in the streets.

I had a mini fit when I saw the camaro in a picture on the site. Yellow with black racing stripes.

Bumblebee.

My mind whirled. It was true. The Autobots existed, lived in secret among humans. I wasn't in my house, in my universe. In some freaky accident, I'd gone to theirs. Damarys didn't remember Destiny or Desire because we didn't write it together in this alternate reality thing.

I'd really seen an Autobot at the mall. A violent, tank of an Autobot.

Ironhide.

My brain was starting to hurt with the mechanics of how and when and why. It didn't matter.

What mattered was that I was here now, and there was no way back. I'd read enough fanfiction about this to know that. Once someone fell into the Bots alternate reality, they were there until they died.

I was stuck, whether I wanted to be or not. Plain and simple.

I flipped through the channels for a while, hoping to erase all things robotic from my mind. I settled on a documentary about mountain lions mating rituals. I let the mind numbing commence, shutting down my aching brain.

I lost track of the documentaries I watched and what they were about. I sat on my couch and ate whatever I felt like having.

It was working. I only briefly thought about things when I wanted to.

Eventually, I turned off the t.v and elected to read what fan fiction I could find online. There were some good stories for Harry Potter and Mortal Instruments. My favorite involved Luke. He was sexy.

I was elbow deep in my favorite story when I heard something outside. I closed my laptop and stood up, listening.

 _Crrreeeaaak_.

My front door was open.

Fear gripped me. I bent low and walked toward my bedroom to grab my weapon of choice. My baseball bat was laying next to my beside table where I'd left it the last time I'd taken it for a spin. I grabbed it and walked to a nearby corner. There were two to choose from, each across from the other, one led to the kitchen and one to the bathroom. I chose the corner that led to the bathroom.

There was movement coming from the living room. I inched into the bathroom, thanking my luck that I had left the door partially open.

I held the bat flat against me and forced my breathing to stay normal, even as my heart flipped and leapt in fear. I waited, time seemed to stretch on for eternity. I could swear that I heard the ticking of the clock in my head.

A shadow finally crossed the hall, creeping stealthily toward the kitchen. It leaned, like it was looking in.

The perfect chance to make my move.

I sneaked out of the bathroom and across the three or four steps to the figure. I waited a beat to be sure they hadn't heard me, then lifted the bat and swung with all my might. I brought it down hard on what looked like it could be a head and watched the body ish shadow drop before I made a run for it.

I encountered a problem I hadn't foreseen. The owner of the shadow had somehow blocked the door, and I couldn't see well enough to undo whatever they did. I'd flipped the light switch a few times.

Nothing.

I circled back and returned to the kitchen, warily approaching the body still laying on the floor. I felt around blindly for their gun, taking it once I located it in one large hand. Most likely a man, then. Not helping his case.

I began to push myself up, but on second thought, felt for a means of identification. I felt a set of tags and gingerly lifted them from his neck.

I stood with my back to the bathroom and aimed the gun at the prone figure.

I wouldn't let them get the drop on me this time.

A groan made me tighten my grip on the gun. I'd think my way out of this, I knew this building.

The bedroom window!

I kept the gun trained on the body while I walked backwards until my free hand touched my door frame. I turned and sprinted for the window, shoving it open and pulling my not so fit frame through. It wasn't easy, there was a lot of wriggling involved.

I landed clumsily, running as soon as I'd steadied myself on my feet.

Think, Natalia! Where was the closest bus station or decent hiding place? I didn't have money, only a gun and a set of dog tags. Great.

I ran until my legs felt like they'd give out on me, no particular direction or directions taken. I spotted an empty train car that had been left near the station and decided, what the pit? The train had already departed, and I needed somewhere to stay for the night.

I stood outside for a few moments, glancing around to be sure I was alone. The light blunted off the tags, so I glanced down to read them while I could.

Major William Lenox.

_**Ah, scrap!** _

I, Natalia Raynes, had hit Major Lennox over the head with a bat and stole his shit.

Great. Just fragging great!


	7. Whoa! Bullets!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or its characters. I only own Natalia Raynes, Damarys, and Doctor Morgan.**

I jolted awake to the sounds of clanging and grunts.

Ugh. I had to pee.

I crawled over to the opening of the car and peeked out. There were railroad workers attaching it to the train and walking on to attach others.

If I was quick and quiet, maybe I could make a break for it without them noticing. What could I do with the gun and tags to make them less noticeable while I escaped the car? I only had a shirt and pants on me. A belt would have been handy right about now.

I put the safety in the gun and slipped it into the waistband of my yoga pants and covered with my shirt. The tags I slid over my neck and tucked under the collar of my shirt. Alright, all set.

I slowly pulled on the door and slid on my butt until my feet hit the ground softly. I checked one more time to be sure the coast was clear . . . . Clear. I turned in the direction I guessed the nearest street would be and took off like a rabbit.

I hoped I was right.

I wandered until I found a gas station with a bathroom. I thanked my luck and hurried into the available restroom. I ignored the food the station supplied, as well as the protest my stomach made to the previous action. I needed food, but didn't have money. So, basically, I needed to make sure Lennox was gone before I went inside.

Which brought my mind to the question. If the Autobots and Lennox were the good guys, why were they taking hostile action against me? Lennox invaded my home, for Pete's sake!

I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. There was no point in speculation, I didn't _actually_ know the objects of my thoughts. I only knew what was shown in the movies and made up in fanfiction stories.

I fidgeted as I stood across the street from my apartment building. It had taken far longer than I appreciated to get home from my location at the gas station.

Now, I was nervous to go inside. What if Lennox was still inside? Waiting.

I suspect he'd want his tags and gun back if that was the case, but would he also have back up? Or maybe have handcuffs to restrain me, if I went in?

Ugh. All I was doing was making my brain hurt and nearly giving myself a panic attack.

I was going inside and I'd take it from there.

* * *

Lennox was gone and my apartment was a mess. My laptop was one of the items missing.

Apparently they were looking for something that I may or not have in my custody. So, maybe they weren't very friendly after all. . .

It didn't make sense. Autobots are supposed to be good guys, right?

Ugh. Ouch, brain pain.

I walked through the house, setting things to rights as I found the messes. Eventually, the apartment looked like it should. I would focus on the here and now, unless confronted by Lennox or the bots.

The Allspark etched onto my chest tingled and ached throughout the day, distracting me from from putting all things alien from my mind.

The phone rang, it's sound shrill in my ears. My head had begun to pound about an hour ago. It had steadily increased since then, decreasing the chances of me blaring music while I cleaned. On second thought, neither would I clean. I didn't feel like doing anything anymore.

Something seriously weird was going on with me.

* * *

 

I groaned in annoyance when the person at the door wouldn't stop knocking.

I gingerly lifted my eyelids enough to see where I was headed, before closing them again and guiding my movements with my hands. I fumbled with the knob for a minute, before finally successfully turning it the right way.

"What?" I hissed, grimacing with closed eyes.

"You will come with us, human femme." A harsh voice commanded in front of my.

"Nice try, asshole. I'm not going anywhere with you or anyone else." I snapped, closing the door in his face. I turned and started to walk away, through with the discussion. I had nothing else to say.

A snarl was my only warning, then a very loud bang and suddenly I was being bodily removed from my apartment.

I slammed my fists down on the person. . .wait, no. . . I wasn't hoisted over someone's shoulder.

I was being held in a large metallic fist.

I wiggled my hand down toward my waist in an effort to check if the gun was still in my waistband. I could feel cool metal just barely sticking out of my slightly raised shirt. I sighed in relief. Well, as much as possible when enclosed knowledge metal.

I drew the gun and cracked open my eyes to help aim. Black and white. Ruby red optics.

Barricade.

I took aim at some circuits in the joints of his hand and fired. I shot three or four different places, for certainty. A fifth bullet went for one of the Decepticons optics.

I'd read plenty of fics that said if you concentrate the shot in a certain area, it will increase chances of success. I didn't want to be carried off to Megatron or Starscream, whoever was in charge these days.

The discharge sound for each bullet was hell for my head, but it was worth it if I could escape.

A pained growl assaulted my aching head, and I was free.

Oh, scrap! I was free falling!

Hadn't thought about that.

Whirs and clanks echoed around me as I fell. And then. . . . solid metal.

Something, or rather someone, had caught me.

"Watch what you're doing, slagger. Lord Starscream will take it out of our mesh if the fleshie is offline before he gets what he wants." A more feral robotic voice hissed, violence and hatred oozing from its vocal cords. Well, the bot equivalent, anyway.

I tensed, I'd used all the leftover bullets on Barricade. The voice and coloring didn't ring any bells. All I had to go on was the ruby red optics and natural hatred of all things.

My headache and chestache had both increased significantly now that I was in Decepticon hands, making it hard to think. I hardly noticed that my captor had transformed, until I was sitting in a car seat instead of held in a hand. The seatbelt felt restrictive around my waist, the doors locked me inside.

Scenery I dimly recognized zoomed past. Shrubs, buildings, and trees I couldn't name in my state.

My sore eyes slid closed and my limbs felt heavy as I slipped into unconsciousness.


	8. Contemplations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or it's characters. I only own Natalia Raynes, Damarys, and Doctor Morgan.**

I was dumped unceremoniously on a concrete floor. A cold concerete floor covered in some sort of dust.

Ouch. Eww.

I pushed onto my knees and glanced around, I and my two captors were the only lifeforms around. What had happened to the whole take me to your leader thing? They had mentioned taking me to Starscream and this didn't look like a Decepticon base.

It appeared to be a sort of bunker or something similar. Crudely made with rough dimensions and measurements. It was mostly bare, but for recharging booths and energon preserves.

"Restrain the flesh bag, Barricade. If it isn't too difficult a task for you." The red and silver Decepticon hissed, a clear taunt to the other mech.

Barricade snarled angrily. "I am adequately equipped to restrain the fleshie in any means necessary, Flashwing."

The mech, Flashwing, puffed out a gust of air and turned for a recharge booth.

Barricade growled and snatched me in his undamaged hand none too gently. I sucked in a sharp breath, flinching. He stomped to a nearby corner and dropped me on my ass on a crevice just wide enough to fit me. He used spare wiring to secure me to a a rock.

I waited until he'd walked a good distance away to test the wire. No give.

I wasn't going anywhere.

Scrap.

I couldn't let them find out about the Allspark markings on my chest. I most definitely could not let the Con's get their filthy hands on the markings.

I had to figure out a way to escape this place. By any means necessary.

* * *

I frowned at the towering mech. I had the urge to urinate, but refused to urinate so close to my sleeping space. Can I just say major gross?

Not. Happening. Con.

"Hey!" I yelled, waving a bit to grab Barricades attention. The fragger ignored me. "Hey, I'm talking to you you fragging sack of scrap!"

Red eyes burned hate fully into me, and a mechanical mouth snarled at me. "Mind your speech processors, flesh bag, or I will tear them out! You will learn your place soon enough, squishy, before Lord Starscream graces you with his presence."

"I refuse to. . .lubricate. . .where I recharge! Carry me to another ledge that I can use, and I will, but not here." I stared him down, my courage only partly false.

An enraged roar proceeded the storm.

Barricade lunged, a massive hand slamming into the wall near me. "Respect your new Gods squishy!"

"I don't believe in God's and Lords." I snapped, not allowing the fear to show. I locked mg knees to prevent shaking and forced my body to stay statue still. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

He snarled, his good hand extending a finger and flicking me, sending my body into the rough surface of the wall.

I grunted in pain, laying on the floor of the crevice while I caught up mentally with the events. The fragging Con had fragging _flicked_ me! The slagging sack of scrap, femme creator sparking Con. Had. Flicked. Me! Ooh, if I had a plasma cannon or energon blaster on me. . . .

I ranted and growled in irritation for a few more moments before mentally taking note of my health.

I gingerly rotated, lifted and pressed on various parts of my body. No internal bleeding that I could detect. . .but, my right wrist was broken and bruising was already appearing all up my back and right side. I think a few ribs were at least cracked, maybe just bruised up.

Without a doctor, it was anybody's guess.

I shuffled to the furthest corner and painfully crouched low enough to relieve myself. I wasn't in the mood or state for another beating so soon. It wasn't the most comfortable feeling in the world, not having toilet paper to wipe up with afterward.

 _ **Ew. Absolutely disgusting**_. I screwed up my face as I lifted my yoga pants over my legs.

I lasted two minutes before I broke and tore the edge of my shirt off to use as a replacement for toilet paper. I discarded the scrap of shirt at the edge of the crevice near the furthest corner I could reach.

I sighed and eased my sore and battered body down into a sitting position. I would try to sleep a few hours like this, I doubted I'd be able to fully lay down and sleep with my side so sore. I rubbed a tender spot on my chest and touched something metal and smallish.

Lennox's tags.

I lifted them from their hiding place and smoothed a finger over the face of the metal. For a brief moment, I wished that the Autobots or N. E. S. T knew where I was, but quickly dismissed it. They wouldn't even know where to start looking for me, if they cared. . .which I also highly doubted given their actions toward me.

I snorted, this wasn't the ideal place to be contemplating past events and guessing the reasons why.

 _This_ was the scene in the movies where I planned a way to survey the landscape around my prison and debated my best scenarios for escape.

The question was, how?


	9. Dream A Dream For Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or its characters. I only own Natalia Raynes, Damarys, and Doctor Morgan.**

**A/N: I do apologize, I know the last chapter was short, but I didn't want to overdo things by ranting on about her thoughts and ruin the surprises that come later.**

* * *

I limped the entire width and length of the crevice, determined to walk around a bit today so my muscles wouldn't lock up. I didn't know how long I'd been with the Cons.

It felt like weeks. That was more than I was comfortable with.

The Decepticons had talked with someone else, but I wasn't sure who it was and they were speaking in the completely complex and beautiful Cybertronian. When the Cons spoke, it lost one of the two. There were multiple messages in and out, some shorter and more hostile than others. Most sounded like reports being passed from both sides.

Some time after the last transmission, the camouflaged doors opened. Soundwave entered, he seemed to be carrying a few things with him.

I frowned, walking a little closer to the edge to try to see better. What was he holding? It was too small to be anything like a cannon or something cool like that, but their unique physique didn't call for laundry needs so it wasn't that either.

A movement behind his shoulder drew my attention. A smaller bot was perched there, the body build and colours familiar.

My breath caught in my chest as realization slammed into me. There was only one reason he would be here. Soundwave was carrying a tool box, you could say. Tools that maim and inflict various amounts of agony on the poor soul he selected.

Scalpel.

The little torture expert and mad scientist doctor combo.

Soundwave stopped in front of a makeshift work station I hadn't given a thought to before now and sat the tool box down on it. Scalpel scuttled down the larger bots torso and along his arm until he came to rest on the station. He opened it and rummaged around a bit, almost like double checking that he had everything he needed.

Barricade regarded the new Decepticon cooly. "Took you long enough."

"Had some last minute adjustments to make, now we are ready to start. Where is the specimen?" Scalpel asked, glancing around the room. His red optics shown with curiosity and manic glee.

I barely had time to scream in surprise, before I was ripped from my place on my crevice and airborne in a large metallic hand. I was then dumped none too gently on the table provided, and strapped in sooner than I could say scrap metal, struggling only resulted in hurting my wrists.

 _Damn that maniac to the lowest corner of the pit!_ I cursed, wincing at the sensation of my skin pulling and rubbing unpleasantly. That slagger had made damn sure that I was secured, it was tighter than I'd thought it had been just looking at it. I hated that he was intelligent enough to foresee an attempt to escape.

"Scanning the world wide web and online texts for basic medical knowledge." Scalpel announced, his optics dimming a bit and an almost faraway look reaching them.

I frowned at the smaller Con. He was searching for something medically related, this wasn't good. Fear and panic were starting to rise as I remembered the things he did to people in the stories I'd read. He thrived on their agony and crackles when they screamed.

"Ah, I now contain enough general knowledge of the human anatomy to proceed without immediate offlining." He crowed to the room a minute later.

I wasn't sure if that was better or worse. I pushed the fear and panic from my mind, determined to keep a clear head to think of a way out of this. There had to be one, I just had to find it.

Scalpel turned his attention to me, he'd picked up a syringe filled to the top with green liquid. Now, he was directing the tip of the need toward my arm.

 _Oh no you don't you little freak!_ I growled in my mind, moving my elbow the little I could.

He immobilized my arm with his free hand and proceeded to come at me with the syringe.

"Hey! Get that thing away from me you little freak! I'll rip your optics out with my bare hands when I get them free." I snapped, anger and defiance roaring in my chest like an angry tornado.

A brief sting in my arm made me hiss, he'd succeeded in injecting me with whatever that shit was. Tingles similar to when your foot falls asleep spread through my body, starting from the back of my neck all the way down to my toes. It was really weird and made me want to shake everything out.

I lasted a minute with no movement, then gave in to the urge to wiggle my toes to see if that would help get rid of the unwelcome feeling. I glanced down, just to be sure that I could, and froze almost immediately.

I couldn't move them.

I tried to flex my foot. Nothing. I tried to roll my ankle around. No movement. I tried everything I could think of and waited to see if I received a response from the body part. Nothing.

Panic started to flare in the back of my mind. I couldn't move anything below my neck.

"Paralysis agent is successful, commencing with experiment 00-1A." Scalpel announced, before scuttling to his bag of tools and extracting a scalpel and a container with a hazard sign in hieroglyphics that I guessed were Cybertronian. He brought the two items with him as he scuttled back, this time he climbed my body until he was standing on my lap.

I watched the smaller alien carefully open the container and and withdraw a robotic claw from his subspace storage in his chest. The claw took a vial of clear, smoking liquid from the hazard container and maneuvered the vial so it hovered over my left arm.

Red optics flickered around my arm for a moment, before moving the vial closer to my shoulder. His free hand ripped the sleeves of my shirt up roughly, exposing my upper arm. He tipped the vial until the liquid rose to the top and began to drip out. I could do nothing but watch the drops fall through the short space between and I knew the exact moment they made contact with my skin.

Pain tore through my mind, loud sizzling met my ears and the smell of flesh burning reached my nose. I screamed, trying and failing to move away from the vial still slowly adding more drops to different points of my upper arm.

Acid. That was the only conclusion I could make given the way the substance was eating away at my skin tissue and quickly working toward my muscle. The fragging freak was dripping acid onto my skin!

Scalpel placed the vial back into the container and a nozzle sprouted from his arm, spraying something on my arm.

I noticed the pain cease once the spray hit the acid. It had to be some kind of neutralizing agent designed for situations like this. Why would he stop the acid before it reached my veins? What was the purpose of the acid? What was the experiments objective?

These were the questions I wanted answers to, but would likely not receive.

Scalpel emitted a mechanical hum and used the scalpel to slice a line down the middle of my short from the bottom of my sports bra to the top of my yoga pants. He sprayed the area with a blue liquid and waited a minute while it soaked into my skin.

I frowned, my mind cataloguing his action and searching for meanings. What was the blue liquid? Why would he spray it there of all places?

Suddenly, an image of Grey's Anatomy doctors spreading the orange stuff on abdomens before surgery hit me. My eyes widened, Scalpel was going to take the experiment to my internal structure.

As of sensing my thoughts, the hand with the scalpel descended on my body, the sharp tip poking through my skin with little effort.

Pain exploded through my body as the knife slid downward, a small detour around the curve of my belly button and then continuing in a straight line, stopping a few inches above the top of my yoga pants. A few more cuts were made to widen the opening and then clawed metal hands were moving inside my body.

Black spots danced and popped in front of my eyes, my screams echoed through the bunker as the Decepticon continued his task.

I don't know how long I suffered the indescribable agony, time stretched until it ceased to make any sense. Finally, my mind took mercy on me and I blacked out, losing consciousness.

I welcomed the small sliver of peace. I knew I would wake in pain and so I'd take advantage of this peace while I could.

Kind blue optics and warm brown eyes swirled through my dreams.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the correct residence listed for Miss Raynes?" Optimus rumbled, blue optics glancing down to the human ally designated Major William Lennox. The man had reported an encounter with the human femme that resulted in the removal of his identification tags and weapon.

"Yes, sir. I researched all I could on Miss Raynes and this is listed as the correct address." The human mech responded, frowning in concern at the sight of the home.

The front door was broken and lying in the entrance to the living room. There were signs of gunfire and a struggle, energon had also been detected at the site. All these things pointed to an attack that ended in an abduction.

"It appears that Miss Raynes has been taken by the Decepticons." Optimus rumbled in his deep voice, optics concerned. "We will have to double our efforts to locate the Decepticon base if we are to fond Miss Raynes."

"Optimus, the human femme may have the Allspark, or know where it is. I saw the marks on her flesh with my own optics." Ironhide grunted, shifting from foot to foot. He hated these holograms with a fiery passion. He would delightfully delete them from his systems if only Optimus would allow him to. The Prime believed it to be a crucial tool to fit in among the humans.

"In that case, Ironhide, I sincerely hope that Miss Raynes is an ally. The Allspark must not fall into Decepticon hands." Optimus murmured gravely. "We can so no more here. Autobots, roll out."

The Autobots left with troubled processors and heavy sparks. The human soldiers that accompanied them battled curiosity and wariness at the thought of Natalia Raynes. Friend or foe? This was the question on all minds and processors alike that day.


	10. Water Fuels Resistance

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or its characters. I only own Natalia Raynes, Damarys, Doctor Morgan and my oc Decepticon.**

**Warning: this chapter contains experimentation and torture. This is not for the faint of heart.**

* * *

I blinked my eyes open, staring at the rough textured ceiling of the bunker. I felt like hell. Pain radiated from my stomach and arm. My throat felt like someone dropped a grater down it and scrubbed the entirety of my throat with it. Vigorously.

Scalpel had waited for me to regain consciousness before continuing the next stage in the experiment.

Hatred flooded my veins for the bot. I wanted to punt kick him from here to the lowest layer of the pit. Twice. He'd burned me with acid and cut into me like a fragging Turkey at thanksgiving dinner. His hands had been inside my body, doing Primus only knows what for I don't know how long.

I wanted Scalpel to offline the slowest, most painful way possible, and I wanted to offline him myself.

Scalpel scuttled up my body with his selected tools. A hammer and another container with a hazard symbol, this one looked different. The vial was larger, taller, thicker and the contents were a shade of purple I'd never seen before. He set the vial down with great care, on a stand set up to hold it until he was ready to use it.

The hammer he hefted with both clawed hands, and brought down on my shins. He tossed the hammer to the ground unconcerned, then moved up my body to my incision site. He poked and prodded around the area, humming and clicking occasionally. He'd sutured me up, I looked like I'd been sewed up by Victor Frankenstein.

He left for a moment to go grab a knife, and then he returned, lowering the knife on the skin above my shoulders. He carved and cut, sliding the knife in precise movements, ignoring my hoarse cries of pain. He removed the layer of skin, pausing to spray the area, before poking and shifting the muscle tissue curiously. He pulled two packets of idolized salt from behind his legs and poured them into the square laceration.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming, screwing up my watering eyes and counting the ways I wanted to offline the Decepticon. After what felt like an eternity of stinging pain, he finally flushed the wound with clean water.

He replaced the skin on my arm and sewed it back on when he was finished exploring, spraying the skin again afterward.

I breathed in an out, focusing on the rising and falling of my chest. The bastard was going to be the first to offline when I escape this torture chamber. The Cons only went outside for patrols and to receive better signal for comm messages. I'd have to wait for a patrol to coincide with one of the bigger bots next recharge cycle. Hopefully Scalpel would be doing something other than carving me up or dousing me with acid when that time comes. I didn't want to stay here any longer than I had to.

I wanted to be home with Damarys, I'd give anything to hear her voice. Even if it meant she was admonishing me for something, clucking at me like a mother hen. She always did that.

I missed that.

Scalpel, the thrice damned slaughter, brought me out of my thoughts by carving a piece of skin from my ribcage and removing a chunk of muscle tissue. He hurriedly sprayed the area and stemmed the bleeding, tapping my fifth rib bone hard with a clawed finger.

I growled, grinding my teeth together to keep from yelling in pain. He liked it when I made pained noises. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction this time. To my intense surprise, he plucked the vial from the holder and poured an inch of the liquid into the open wound. I couldn't stop the scream that wrenched out of my throat. The sensation was like nothing I'd ever felt. It was like I was being sliced, burned, ripped and bludgeoned all at once.

He drew more of the liquid out of the vial with a syringe and injected it into my arm. Almost immediately after, my whole body felt like that. This time it was a lot worse, more intense.

"The age by has been applied, scanning will take place once the agent has sufficiently been spread." Scalpel noted aloud, placing the vial and syringe back in their proper containers. He watched me toss my head and clench my teeth with careless optics. "Experiment 00-2A will continue once the subject has been scanned and there are no negative readings."

I panted, cursing fervently in my mind. The next recharge cycle should be soon, I hope this little _bug_ will be done by then. I wasn't sure how much more I could take of this 'experimentation'.

He stitched me up, like the past few times, and sprayed the area. However, this time he extracted the vial of acid from its container and set it on the holder he'd set the other vial on earlier in the session. His ruby optics roved over me, he seemed to be debating, deciding which part of me his new canvas for his cruel artwork would be.

"Don't even think about it, you fragging scrap of waste." I hissed with whatever energy I had left over. It wasn't much.

Scalpel narrowed his optics at me. "You have no say here, subject. You'd do well to remember that."

I shot him a weak glare. I would not submit to these _things_. I would die first.

"Defiance will be rewarded with suffering." He replied, moving downward along my legs. His clawed hands grasped the top of my yoga pants and yanked, following my legs all the way down to my feet and tossing them away. "I have found the perfect place, now, for the next step."

He collected the vial and scuttled up my leg until he reached my upper thigh.

"Get off me, you little monster." I growled, ignoring the protest of my aching throat.

"Silence, subject." He snarled, splashing acid on my newly nude upper thigh.

I yelled, quickly clenching my teeth against the sound. _I_ _am stronger than this,_ I reminded myself sternly. _I will not be broken by him or anyone._

"You will not command me." I grit through my teeth.

My defiance was greeted with more acid on another patch of available skin near the last. The acid ate a larger space, burning through my flesh.

"Barricade, prepare the device." Scalpel instructed suddenly, pouring a generous amount on a patch of skin lower on my thigh that was more toward my knee. "Do take care to provide plenty of water. We shall need it."

I fought through the pain, I needed to hear their exchange. I wanted to know what the monster had planned for me next.

Barricade growled and grumbled, but obeyed. He left my line of sight, the only indication that he was still in the room was scraping noises and something sloshing. The sloshing was followed by a thunk, like something heavy had been dropped.

My mind was yielding no ideas yet. My concentration wasn't helped by the acid eating three spaces of skin on my thigh.

Scalpel sprayed the acid wounds with that weird anti acid neutralizing spray soon after.

My relief at the loss of flesh eating acid was short lived.

"The scan has returned with positive results, the specimen is ready." The smaller bot stated, glancing down at my nearly naked body.

Before I had processed what was happening, my bonds were released and I was lifted from the work bench. The colouring wrong for Barricade, it must have been Soundwave or the other one, the Flash whatever.

I was hooked up to a crude version of a pulley system. The chain connected to the ceiling and led to a matching hook on a far wall, tied securely. I warily eyed the large tub of water a few feet to my left, it honestly looked like a huge bathtub to me. I'd seen setups like this in war movies or things like Leathal Weapon. They never equalled anything good.

Barricade and Soundwave stood off to the side, a few feet to my left, observing. Scalpel approached with a bucket of water in each clawed hand.

I wanted to jolt as ice cold water splashed against every inch of my body, but I couldn't. The paralyzing agent was still working, keeping me immobilized. My hair clung to my face and neck, partially obscuring my vision.

The humming grew louder, closer. The pain came next.

A harsh wave of electricity shot through my mostly naked body, every nerve ending screaming in unison and my heart stuttering, skipping beats.

I fell limp when Scalpel removed the roughly made panels that had been pressed to my skin. My respite was briefer than I'd have liked, lasting what felt like merely seconds from him lifting the panels off me.

He pressed the panels firmly onto my knees, my head jerking and my body screaming with agony. He continued, pausing just long enough for me to breathe it seemed, and then using the panels on me. Every shock was harsh and felt like it lasted a lifetime, the pain never ending.

I don't remember how long I screamed, yelled and cried out. Nor do I remember how often he used the panels on me, before I passed out, but I remember the feeling of electricity flowing through me. The pain and hatred oozing from my soaked pores.

I'd kill that mech, slowly, with no mercy.

He hadn't shown me any.

* * *

I woke on my crevice, still mostly naked and wet. It must have only been minutes since I'd been taken off the hook, less than ten.

I mentally took stock of myself.

I glanced down, trying to view as much as I could while I had the chance. The menace had stitched up my surgical wounds again, I vaguely remembered the stitches pulling. The acid wounds were bandaged and the breaks were set in a crude form of a sprint. A catheter was connected to my leg, the bag hugging my skin.

Scalpel wanted me to heal so his experiments can continue for as long as possible. His results would be dismissed if I wasn't in the proper condition during testing.

He'd said as much when Barricade had questioned him.

I lay on my back, my mind filling with all the things I imagine the fragger would probably do to me. Terrible thoughts that I entertained for a while before forcing them from my head. The little beast had done much to me already, enough to break a lesser woman.

I was not a lesser woman. I was Natalia Raynes, and I would not be broken easily.


	11. Ready Set Go!

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or its characters. I only own Natalia Raynes, Damarys, and Doctor Morgan.

Warning: chapter contains experimentation and torture.

Authors note: the torture and experimentation goes on for a bit, but won't last the entire story, promise.

I couldn't tell when night and day were, which made it hard to tell how long I'd been here.

What I could tell you was that I'd been carved and exploratory prodded repeatedly since the water torture session. I had scars on either side of my ribcage, down my stomach, my shoulder and leg. The mystery liquid made an appearance during each exploratory surgery, but hadn't figured out what exactly it did. Scalpel kept notes, but he always spoke in Cybertronian since I was usually awake. I also now had six more acid burns on my arms, neck, legs and back.

I was irregularly fed and watered, mostly bread and water. Occasionally, I got a piece of ham instead of bread. Catheter bags were placed on my crevice twice during the day and night for me to change myself. The were always gone the next time I woke up, after my sessions as I started to call them.

This time when I was brought down from my perch, Scalpel had more equipment than usual. There were clamps, his usual scalpel, a suture kit, large bandages and something I couldn't quite see.

I fortified my mind, steeling myself in preparation for the pain. He never gave me pain medication, only the paralyzing agent. I can do this, I chanted in my thoughts. I can survive that thing and everything he throws at me.

I repeated those sentences in my head as he injected me with the paralyzing agent and waited for it to take effect. I clenched my teeth as I felt it spread through my body.

There was a long moment of silence as he scanned me. Once. Twice.

"Paralyzing agent active, I will begin experiment 006-D." Scalpel announced, spreading my abdomen with the strange blue surgical spray and waited for it to soak into my skin. He started up the Cybertronian commentary as he made the first few slices to open me up like a gruesome version of a book.

Things were going normally. I screamed as he rummaged around a bit, not very gently as usual, and he finally withdrew his hands from me.

Now, here's the rub. This time, instead of cleansing the wound with that shit that burned, he grabbed some clamps and lowered then into my open abdomen. I could feel him latching them to something, but it was hard to see what.

He made more cuts and siphoned excess blood from his area with a small hose, turning to empty out in a bucket.

I fought through the crashing wave of pain to watch what he was doing. This time, I would know what he did to me when he cut me open. Looking back on the next few moments, I might wish that I hadn't. No one deserved what came next.

Scalpel reached back for these things that looked like larger versions of tweezers and they, too, disappeared into my body.

The pain blossomed, becoming more intense, making it hard to breathe for a minute. Stars danced in front of my eyes

He pulled, lifting the tweezers out again. However, there was a bloody mass connected.

Horror struck my chest. What had he done to me?!

I stared at the mass as he dropped it into the pan that I hadn't seen earlier. It took me a few heartbeats to find my voice.

"What are you doing, you little freak?! What have you done to me?!" I cried, a mix of emotions floating around my chest. Anger, pain, nausea, horror.

He cackled, continuing his commentary and lowering the tweezers into my body.

"DON'T YOU DARE! You get away from me with those!" I screamed, terrified and furious.

He ignored me, lifting out a second bloody chunk. This one had a different shape and size, smaller and more of a square. It looked like a chunk of muscle from somewhere. The first mass was circular and had a different texture forms what I saw.

An organ?

He was removing my organs now?!

He plopped muscle next to organ in the pan and flushed them with water, hurrying to place them beside his bag of tools. He placed the pan in a circular thing and covered it with a lid. It looked kind of like a cooler, but I didn't hear any ice moving around when he put the pieces of my body in it.

"The samples have been extracted." Scalpel noted aloud, approaching me. "Continuing with experiment 006-D."

He'd abandoned the tweezers and returned to my open abdomen. More tools were introduced: Sharp, blunt, circular, sticks with mirrors, and other things I'd lost track of or couldn't accurately describe.

There was an eternity of cutting, clipping, clamps, siphoning excess blood and pain. The world was reduced to sight and sound and pain.

A few more pieces had been lifted out of me. A part of a bone, a sliver of intestine, a patch of my outer lung.

He was careful to avoid extracting too much, just enough to provide a sample.

Finally, he had what he wanted and poured the mysterious liquid into my wounds, waiting only long enough for it to do whatever it was meant to, then he began to close me up. Stitches, bandages and more unknown substances being applied to my surgical site.

I was moved to my crevice, and I lay there for the rest of the day? Night? I didn't even know which.

My mind whirled as I rested. No, rested was the wrong word, this wasn't rest.

Nothing about this was restful.

Had Scalpel been removing bits of me at a time once I was unconscious? Was there an alternation? A system? Did he take a piece of me every time he cut me open? What the pit did he want? What was the purpose of the experiments?

I had no answers. I didn't even know where to begin looking for them.

I lie awake until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

There were no dreams, only nightmares and memories.

I screamed and thrashed my head back and forth, gnashing my teeth.

This was going too far! This was thousands of kinds of wrong!

Scalpel had woken me and injected me with a different vial this time, an addition to the paralyzing agent. This green liquid was worse than the other shit.

This shot was an enhancer, sped up my healing process to an inhuman level.

They'd made me into a freak for a grand total of an hour.

I learned the hard way that it had time frame limits.

The new acid marks on my collar bone, decorative designs the fragger had named them, were still on my skin two hours after application. This delighted the Con to no end.

So, naturally, he conducted his next act of defining anything human.

Scalpel had wheeled in stirrups I'd seen in check ups with my lady doctor and wasted no time strapping me in to them and manoeuvring me to his satisfaction.

The stirrups should have been a clue, I realized that now.

He had called it a probe, when Barricade asked. He had said it would allow him to examine what he couldn't gain access to through my abdomen. Let him extract sample and collect data from the one point of my structure he hadn't gained access to yet.

So, now, I was thrashing my head in agony as the Decepticon forced the probe further into my body. The bastard was in essence raping me with a damn probe.

He roughly pushed again, the probe nearing the target. My cervix.

He took tissue and bone samples, withdrawing in much the same way he'd started. Very roughly.

I received another shot of the green fluid and was sent back to my crevice.

Hatred ran through me, pumped through my veins with every beat of my heart.

I observed their recent movements and planned.

I wouldn't stay another day in this situation. I would escape, or die trying.

All I had to do was wait for the right moment.

It took three more sessions with the electricity and water before I found my means of escape.

Observation revealed that there were human bullets scattered on the floor. Listening revealed that the bunker was originally an abandoned human base that they'd shaped for their needs.

I had hidden the gun the first day of my captivity. If I could collect enough bullets I could make my move.

On my third session of water torture, I purposefully fell and sucked up three bullets into my mouth and swept them under my tongue for temporary safe keeping.

Once the paralysis wore off, I loaded the bullets into the gun and stashed it again.

Barricade took over the water torture, Scalpel had disappeared after the probe incident. I was subjected to more frequent trips to the hooks while he was in control and the sessions lasted a while longer as a result.

The unintentional second result, was I had more opportunities to gather the abandoned ammunition on the bunker floor.

When I had enough bullets to fill the chamber ten times, I decided that was enough ammunition for my needs. Now, to wait for the next portion of the plan.

My chance came sooner than expected.

Scalpel had left what I assumed was four days ago to study the newer samples he'd cut my my acid burnt skin. Soundwave had gone to the main base to report to Starscream. Apparently the deluded scrap heap thought he could one up the Autobots ans was pit bent on trying it.

Barricade came for me, like I knew he would. I grabbed my stolen gun and extra ammo, hiding them from the Cons view.

Patience.

He grasped me in his fist and walked toward the hook I had hung from more often than I'd rather remember.

I waited until he'd lowered me to a somewhat safe distance from the ground and took the opportunity in a bold move. There wouldn't be a better time or chance than this. I whipped the gun from its hiding place and fired with quick succession. The first three rounds I aimed for his optics, the other three went into the sensitive circuits of his hands.

As expected, he dropped me with a pained snarl, both hands going for his optics.

I grunted as I landed on my back, forcing the pain from my mind as I rolled onto my knees and ran for the doors. I reminded myself that I wasn't hurt bad on my back and pushed My legs to work faster.

My newest surgical site protested, but I ignored it, pressing on the smaller door I'd seen Scalpel use.

Sunlight blasted into my eyes, immediately stopping me in my tracks. I covered my eyes and hissed in pain, cursing my sensitivity to light. I didn't have time for this, I had to keep going or I'd be done before I really started.

I ran, keeping my eyes mostly covered, only allowing a tiny crack in my hands to guide me.

I ran until my legs refused to work another second and straight shade from a nearby tree. Everything hurt now and my lungs burned.

I groaned when I realized the wound on my abdomen had started to trickle blood and a tinge of pus. The bandage would need to be changed very soon and the wound itself cleaned and tended to properly.

I needed water. I needed shelter.

I needed a lot of things I wouldn't get where I was.

After my legs felt like I could stand on them again, I pushed myself up and started walking.

I walked and walked, stopping for breaks when I had no other choice and resting under the shad of trees, the sun slowly descending.

Suddenly, the sand and trees stopped. Blue with yellow and white stripes. Signs with black curves.

Hope filled me for the first time since I'd escaped. A road!

I stumbled forward, the sun had long lost it warmth, even though I could see the waves of heat rising from the to road. Shiver assaulted my body, my limbs resembling uncontrollably. I fell to my knees as my legs gave out and crawled to the centre of the road.

I could hear it. The whooshing of tires and the rumble of an engine.

A car.

A car was coming.

I was saved.

Everything became blurry after that. Distorted voices and a fuzzy face the I thought seemed very familiar.

"Charles, do something!"

"Dear God! Miss Raynes? Can you hear me?"

"I can't get service. I can't call the ambulance."

"Help me get her in the car, Joe."

Wait. . . I knew that voice.

"Doctor Morgan." I slurred, my tongue feeling heavy and wrong. I was so cold and everything hurt.

"I've got you, Miss Raynes. I'll take care of you."

Those were the last words I heard before being swallowed by darkness.


	12. Unexpected Assistance

Charles Morgan was a doctor, that was true. However, in all his years as a physician, he'd never seen anything like this.

He'd ushered Miss Raynes into the guest room of his home with the help of his friend Joe Walters. He'd removed her clothes to assess the damage and if immediate action was needed.

He'd promptly been overwhelmed and nauseated, vomiting into a nearby waste basket. The evidence suggested torture and surgical procedures, undoubtedly consensual. Acid burns were scattered all over her body and there were strange marks on her chest that resembled hieroglyphics.

This former patient and likely captive, had been through unspeakable horror and it made the doctor in him want to assist. The man was sickened by the atrocities committed against the unconscious woman.

He saw the injection mars on her arms and decided to run tests to check for drugs or other harmful substances.

The results confused the poor human man. There were numeral foreign substances in her body. None were like anything he'd ever encountered.

What on Earth had those monstrous beasts done to this woman?

Miss Raynes suddenly jerked, her eyes flew open and her mouth flapping as if she were gasping for breath.

Startled, the physician rushed to her side. The shine in her eyes indicating the presence of a fever.

"Doctor Morgan. . ." She rasped in a slightly hoarse voice.

XXXXXXXXX

I ripped away from the images of Scalpel lifting bloody masses from my body, my eyes drawn to a grey ceiling with a strange little ceiling fan.

Movement to my left drew my attention to a familiar face.

"Doctor Morgan. . ." I rasped, wincing as my throat protested. I sounded like shit.

"It's alright, we're at my home. You're safe now." He murmured softly in the voice that had soothed me when I hadn't received my pain medication yet at the hospital.

"No, you have to listen. Its important." I dragged the tags off and showed them to him. "You have to call him and tell him you found his tags. Tell him! Codename Ratchet. You have to call them."

A violent round of shivers racked my body, stopping me from doing or saying anything else. My entire body felt like I'd been beaten and well, tortured and operated on. My head felt heavy and like it was full of wool.

"Alright, I will. I will. I promise.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled into the pillow.

I was so tired.

XXXXXXXXXX

Charles gingerly lifted the dog tags from her hand, taking a closer look. Why would she have another person's identification tags?

Major William Lennox.

He sighed and called in one of his many favors. "Joe? I need you to find all you can on a William Lennox. Yes, it's very important that I find him. I have a promise to keep."

The doctor glanced down at the sleeping woman. So much had happened to her. So much pain.

He couldn't risk giving her any medications to help her with the unknown substances pumping through her system. He could kill her.

He answered the phone immediately after the first ring. "Hello? Yes, this is Doctor Charles Morgan. . . I have a message for Major William Lennox . . . I'm sorry, sir, all I know is she made me promise to tell you. . . She said to call you and tell you that she had your identification tags. She mentioned a codename Ratchet? She said that she was sorry."

He frowned at the response. "I can't do that. She's in no condition to speak to anyone. She's recovering. I can't tell you what because I don't know just yet myself. I only found her weak, dehydrated and stricken with fever in the middle of the road around two hours ago."

He furrowed his eyebrows at the other man's attitude and reluctantly relayed his address. He had a promise to keep. He'd sort the rest out once the Major arrived.

XXXXXXXXXX

Optimus frowned at the holographic map displayed on the projector. There had been no sign of Miss Raynes or the Decepticons since her capture.

Where could they have gone?

Major Lennox had expressed his frustration at the loss of his identification tags and weapon.

An cooperative burst into the conference room, a hand over his mouthpiece. "Major Lennox? There's a phone call for you."

The Autobot and human frowned as one.

"Major Lennox. Patch me through. I understand that you've been looking for me?" The creases between his brow deep end. "What message?"

The soldier froze, his body language tense. "How do you know that name? Put her on the phone immediately. What do you mean she can't come to the phone? Recoverinf from what? What? Where do you live, Doctor? We're coming there, don't let her escape."

Lennox turned to the room. "Miss Raynes has turned up in a house outside Nevada. Apparently Doctor Morgan found her in poor health on a road a few hours from his house. Optimus, she mentioned Ratchet by name."

Optimus nodded, blue optics serious. "We should visit the residence and determine what Miss Raynes knows of us and the Decepticons whereabouts. She may hold the key to discovering the Decepticons base. We shall end the matter of whether she bears the Mark of the Allspark when we arrive."

The Autobot leader called for Ratchet to join them as the soldiers made preparations for the journey. Will and Epps would be accompanied by a handful of volunteers, to be on the safe side.

Exactly two hours later, Autobots and humans left the N. E. S. T base for Nevada.

XXXXXXXX

I was back in the bunker, standing beside the work table. I blinked in confusion.

I didn't understand. How could this have happened? When had they caught me? Why couldn't I remember?

I felt awful. My head felt like I'd stuffed a field of cotton in it, my body ached.

I stumbled around the cave like structure, trying to make my fuzzy brain work. Which direction had I seen the doors? I know I just saw them.

Scuttling drew my attention away from my search for the door.

Scalpel.

I grabbed an I. V. stand I hadn't noticed before, ready to hit the smaller Decpticon with it. The freak had tortured me enough! He wouldn't get his rusty digits on me again if I had anything to say about it. Never again!

"Ah, the subject is awake. Now, now, what do you think you're going to do with that? Stupid human femme." The Con hissed, ruby optics mocking me.

"I don't know, and I don't need to. You're never coming near me again, you fragging heap of junk!" I growled, hoping my voice sounded stronger than I felt. I wasn't entirely sure I could take down the Con, but if I went down, I'd go down swinging in any case.

"Inferior femme, I will have you on my table soon. I will enjoy hearing your screams again. I have such plans for you." He cackled, scuttling forward.

"NO! Never! You're never touching me again you little bastard!" I screamed, throwing the stand at him.

I walked backward steadily, throwing everything I could at his approaching form.

"Stay back!" I yelled, throwing something else.

I finally found the doors and pushed through, stumbling. I grabbed the railing weakly in a last ditch effort to stay standing. I failed miserably and fell, my sore body protesting intensely.

A bright gleam of light made me lift my head. Sunlight met metal. Fifty feet of metal, humanoid form. The Autobots had come. When had they gotten there? They had terrible timing, I'd already freed myself.

Lennox and Epps ran ahead, the brown haired soldier dropping to his knees beside me. "Hey, stay with me."

"I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . ."

Everything hurt and I was so tired. I wanted to sleep.

Why was I so tired? I had energy before.

I felt funny. Wait, where was Ratchet? He could take a look and tell me why I felt so tired now.

"R-Ratchet. Ratchet." I stuttered, succumbing to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The Autobots and soldiers arrived to the residence Major Lennox had indicated held Miss Raynes.

Optimus' holoform frowned as he picked up hostile sounds coming from the household. A femme was yelling, the softer voice of a mech followed every shouted phrase. The femme sounded distressed.

Crashing noises followed soon after, causing concern.

However, before any move could be made, a human femme stumbled out of the residence. She was unsteady, falling soon after exiting the residence.

Optimus' holoform flickered to life and stood beside his real form, frowning at the fragile human femme in concern. She did not look as healthy as the other human femme he and his Autobots had met. She glanced up, taking notice of their presence. Optimus noted her eyes looked too bright.

Lennox climbed down and approached the femme, Epps joined him. The human mech quickly took in her appearance and cursed, dropping to his knees beside her. "Hey, stay with me."

The Autobot could hear the femme's facial grinding tools clattering.

"I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . ." She murmured, her vocal response weak and tired.

A man in a thin white coat burst from the house with a black back, hastily approaching the three other humans and dropping to his knees beside them.

"Miss Raynes? Can you understand me? It's Doctor Morgan." Thean who identified himself as Doctor Morgan opened the bad and pulled took a out, pressing a circular object to the femme's chest

The femme gave no response, her eyes more distant. Then, her eyes flicked to Lennox and held his gaze. "R-Ratchet. Ratchet."

Immediately afterward, the femme fell unconscious.

Optimus blinked in surprise. How did she know of Ratchet?

XXXXXXXXXX

Doctor Morgan cursed, placing two fingers against the femme's neck. "Her pulse is weak and thready. The infection hasn't left her completely, the fever is intensifying and her body temperature has risen near a dangerous level. Help me get her inside, I need to check her bandages."

Lennox hesitated, watching Morgan suspiciously. "How do I know you won't try to run with her once we take her inside?"

The doctor balked, turning to glare at the soldier. "Miss Raynes is in a delicate state, to attempt anything like you suggest would kill her. I have sworn an oath to do no harm and I have no intention of ever violating that oath."

The soldier nodded, assisting Epps in lifting the unconscious woman.

"Careful!" the Doctor barked when the soldiers accidentally jostled her a little. "She has stitches."

They entered the house, the holoforms of Optimus and Ratchet following. Doctor Morgan directed them to the guest room he'd set up to treat her and indicated that they lay her on the bed.

"Wait outside." Doctor Morgan ordered, laying the needed supplies on a foldable table beside the bed.

"Not a chance." Lennox retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

The doctor turned to glare at the younger man. "Soldier, I am about to raise her shirt to administer medical attention. My patients privacy is more important to me than your wish to stand guard. Now, unless you are her husband or fiancee, you will leave this room."

Lennox hesitated, before signaling Epps and reluctantly leaving the room. Ratchet and Optimus were already outside the room, and an idea hit the soldier. He didn't have medical training, but he knew a Bot that did. . .

Charles Morgan sighed at the sight of the angry red sutures that held the wound closed. He had failed to double check to make certain he had cleaned all infection from the wound. Now, he would need to remove the contaminated sutures, thoroughly cleanse the wound, and then close the wound with sterile sutures.

He stiffened when he heard the soft click of the door closing. "I thought I told you to wait outside."

"That was Lennox, I am a fellow medical expert." An unfamiliar male voice replied. "What are the patients symptoms?"

"She has an infected surgical wound on her abdomen, fever, and foreign substances in her system. I haven't risked giving her medication and I refuse to do so until I know what it is we're dealing with." Charles answered, steadily removing the first of the sutures. "I ran blood tests, the results are on the dresser."

"Continue working, I will study the results and see if I can be of assistance in identifying the substances." The medical officer replied, walking to the dresser.

Silence ensued as the medical men performed their tasks. Time passed in a peaceful manner as they worked.

Charles was finishing up the final suture when the or her doctor cursed heavily. "What is it?" He asked, not daring to take his eyes off the scissors as he cut the thread.

"I have positively identified the substances in the patients system. They are chemicals from another country and can be very harmful. I have the equipment and supplies I need to reverse the effects in my medical bay at the base. If you want her to live, she must come with me." The other doctor supplied, his voice and tone grave.

"She is my patient, I go with her." Charles insisted, conceding the other man's point. He had no equipment or supplies beyond the basics. This other man was her best shot at recovery.

"If that is what it will take, your request is granted."

Charles rubbed his hands down his face. What had he gotten himself into?


	13. Emotional Warfare

Charles Morgan couldn't explain what had made him trust the medic he'd never met before with the safety of his patient. All he could say was that something about the medic felt trustworthy.

He frowned at the immense size of the medic had suggested, as well as his inner musings. This building was meant for soldiers and war medics. Why would the stranger insist that miss Raynes be brought here? Surely if she were in as much peril as the medic thought he wouldn't dare move her, especially not on such a long trip. He could have set arrangements for his needed supplies to be transported to him, like anyone else in his situation. The location itself made no sense. The patient wasn't a soldier, nor did she have any field medic training in her background.

Charles had checked for those possibilities the first time she came to him, and again before they left Nevada.

Something wasn't adding up in this mess, and he'd find out what later. First, he needed to focus on his patient.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Charles paced outside the closed Med Bay doors, seething. The Medic had kicked him out, muttering about policy and trade secrets within the base being compromised if he was allowed inside.

Ha! Absolute nonsense!

He had tried to fight his unwillingly ejection from the room, arguing that she was his patient and he'd already begun treatment on her, but they had deflated that defence quickly. The medic had countered with the fact that there were unknown substances in her system, stating that he had the appropriate supplies and equipment required to more adequately care for Miss Raynes. Morgan had had no choice then but to leave Med Bay willingly, on his own accord, or be escorted out with soldier assistance.

As Charles paced, his mind turned to mere hours before. The results of the ultrasound he had performed on Miss Raynes while the medic was at some important meeting haunted the doctor. She was far too young for such a devastating tragedy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I blinked my heavy eyes open, slowly reaching the waking world. My mouth felt dry as a desert and my throat felt like hell.

I rolled my stiff neck and shoulders against the metal table I lay on, the movement making that weird slinging static like sound you sometimes hear while moving an arm over smooth metal. My mind caught up to present, the realization of what the situation usually meant slammed into me.

My muscles froze, my heart rate picking up. This couldn't be happening. Not again.

In a flash, I sat up and glanced around. A giant metallic form stood on the far side of the room.

I realized that the table I was on was very, very large. I had to run to reach the edge quickly since I had been laid in th. middle of it. A look down confirmed my fears at this point.

I was very high up. At least twelve feet high.

Frag!

The only way I'd get down is to either produce rows of sheets from my ass, ready to hook to something and shimmy down. Or, the mechanics beings holding me.

I leaned over, debating my choices.

No sheet. No ladder. No jet pack.

I was suddenly airborne, a metal hand closed around my body and lifting me. I struggled and kicked. "Let me down! Get off me!"

Panic burst from my chest when I hadn't been released and I immediately reached for the gun I'd hidden on me. Thank Primus, they hadn't searched me and confiscated it. I aimed and fired a few rounds in quick succession.

A curse rang out and I was dropped to the table. I hissed as my back made contact with the hard surface and forced myself to roll up on my knees. I trained the gun on the robot, not taking my finger off the trigger.

I wasn't taking any chances. If he moved, I'd shoot again. "Stay away from me!"

I got a better look at the mechanical being now that I faced him.

Mint green. I knew that color. Blue eyes.

Ratchet.

Knowledge warred with mistrust. Logically, I knew he wouldn't hurt me. My emotions and experiences, on the other hand, wouldn't be convinced so easily.

My head hurt and my thoughts whirled. I was confused and panic was winning.

"Lower the table." I ordered, stepping forward a bit.

The mech didn't move immediately and I fired a shot near his hand. "Do it or the next one goes through your chest plates."

His hand went to a panel and pressed two buttons, the table began to slowly lower. "Femme, think about what you're doing. Do you honestly believe no one heard you discharge the weapon? Make this easier on yourself and put it down. Don't fight them when they come."

As soon as the table was low enough I jumped down, glad to be away from the cold metal. I kept the Bot in sight, creeping backward toward the door.

The door opened before I could reach it and Ironhide was the first through. The sleek silver form of Jazz slipping in after him.

My fear and panic increased. There were three of them now. They outnumbered me. They'd hurt me together. Laugh at my pain.

No! I screamed in my mind, dimly aware that I'd also localized the protest.

I whirled from Bot to Bot, never keeping my eyes off of them more than five seconds. A movement made me immediately twirl to the Bot responsible. Jazz. "Don't move! Stay away from me! All of you! Stay exactly where you are or I'll shoot!"

"You want a fight, femme? Do you?" Ironhide growled, cannons emerging and pointing at me.

"Don't you dare, Ironhide! The femme's stress levels are high enough as it is. Any higher, and she may experience cardiac palpitations or even seizure." Ratchet responded hotly, blue eyes staring sternly at the other mech. "Femme lower the weapon. Go with then willingly to Optimus."

Images sprung to mind when he mentioned leaving with them. Straps. Burning. Pain. Laughter.

"No! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" I screamed, pressing my hands to my head as hard as I could. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to just stop.

With my head bowed against my chest, my eyes caught a tiny bit of metal poking out of the top of my shirt. Tags.

More emotions rose up to join the others. My emotions still swirled and me like an angry sea. I needed someone. I needed someone who knew what it felt like. I needed a soldier. Human. Someone familiar and safe.

"Lennox. I want Lennox." I whispered, my eyes tracing the tags. Lennox could help me.

I didn't take the gun off the Bots as I waited to see if Will would come.

I didn't have to wait long. The doors opened and Will walked through in his camouflage gear. He walked directly to me, processing the situation at hand. "You requested my presence."

I felt small and vulnerable. Strung out on a thin wire.

"The females stress has decreased. Cardiac arrest is no longer a danger." Ratchet assessed, seeming to ignore my order for him to shut up.

I stared down at the gun. I couldn't separate what I felt. I couldn't find the words I needed to express what I required of Will.

"Give me the gun." He stretched a hand, palm up.

I released my grip on the gun, letting him take it. "I-I don't-I can't. . ."

I gave up, frustrated at my lack of proper communication.

"What is it? You don't what?" Lennox asked, eyes kind as he seemed to recognize the almost helpless expression I wore.

"I don't know how to do this. I'm not weak. I'm not, but. . .I feel so. . ." I cut myself off. "I don't feel like me anymore. . . I feel like they have a piece of me in that bunker."

Silence. He was watching me, contemplating.

I tugged his tags from my neck and held them out to him. "I'm sorry I hit you so hard with the bat and took your stuff."

I looked at Ratchet, sobs starting in my throat. "I'm sorry I shot you. I'm sorry."

I hugged myself, trying to curl in on myself as I cried. Today had just been. . .emotional and hectic. . .

I remembered Will's presence and threw myself at him. I needed warmth to fight the cold I felt inside. I wanted to remember touch with kindness and not pain.

I wanted the whole experience to have never been. A nightmare I'd wake from.

None of these things were possible. . . .

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I refused to return to the table. Much to the medical officers frustration.

"I can't, Ratchet. Barricade installed a table at the bunker." I explained, my voice hoarse from yelling.

So, with reluctance, they allowed me a room with a bed. The catch was I had to be supervised. I deserved that.

I hawked at the bed. The sight was so foreign after sleeping for so long on a crevice.

Ratchet had informed me that I had been help captive for two and a half months. I was too tired and emotionally exhausted to respond at the moment.

The reaction could wait until the morning.

I folded blankets on the floor in a pallet and fell asleep almost immediately after my head lay on the pillow.


	14. Walking To A New World

I sighed, nearly giving in to the urge to hide.

I'd thrown myself at Lennox for comfort and support. He hadn't known what to do with me, not that I blame him.

I had been hostile and trigger happy, then all broken and crying.

Opposite ends of the spectrum.

I frowned and fought the urge until it passed, leaving me entirely. I would face the Autobots today. I was not weak. I would not run away.

I straightened my back and stepped outside. Human guard in military uniform stood stiffly on either side of the door way. They came to life once they saw me outside the room and one spoke in that hard, we will shoot you voice of his. "You are to come with us."

The guards turned and started walking, hands on their holsters and eyes on me.

"I'm not going to shoot you or bomb the base. As you can see, I don't exactly have the to old required." I grumbled.

Silence greeted me. Jeez, what a tough crowd.

The soldiers led me through halls and corridors a dozen. I would have been lost on my own five steps from my door. The soldiers were silent and serious as they led me to an enormous door marked med bay.

"Med bay? I was already check over." I groaned, the urge to go back to my room and hide for a bit flaring up.

I didn't want to face the giant robotic medic. Yesterday was terrible and embarrassing. He had witnessed my weakness. I had no interest in staring at him again so soon. For Primus sake I shot at the mech!

The soldiers opened the door while I was busy dreading the face to face that was about to happen.

Once they opened and I saw into the room the urge grew significantly stronger.

It wasn't just Ratchet standing in the med bay.

My legs acted, spinning me around and pumping me in the opposite direction. I managed six steps before the soldiers recovered and hurried to retrieve me.

"Hey! Stop!" One yelled, right behind me.

I was pulled backward, a bit roughly, my hands behind my back and legs locked together. Handcuffs were slapped onto my wrists and tightened uncomfortably.

"We wouldn't have to do this if you would cooperate." One of the soldiers told me grimly.

I was hauled up and directed toward the med bay again, walked straight up to the metal table despite my struggles and the four giant robots standing on the other side of it. Four pairs of blue eyes watched them steer me toward them.

When the soldiers didn't stop I realized they meant to place me on the metal table.

Panic struck me like lightning, flashes of manic laughter and never ending pain assaulted my mind. I struggled with all my might, digging my heels in, my eyes trained on the slab of evil. "No! No! Let me go! Not that! Anything but that!"

"The females stress level has increased dramatically. Gentlemen, I suggest you release the femme, before she goes into shock or has cardiac symptoms." Ratchet stated in his stern voice, blue eyes locked on me.

"Sir, she has ceased to be cooperative, she may run again." The soldier on my right protested.

"She only began struggling when you approached the table. If you remove her from its vicinity, I can almost guarantee her struggles will cease." Ratchet responded in a more firm, no nonsense tone.

The soldiers reluctantly released my arms and I immediately scrambled away from the devil's slab. My chest heaved and I curled a bit in on myself.

I'm not in the bunker. I'm not in the bunker. I'm not in the bunker! I chanted the phrase to myself.

It wasn't working.

I could see Scalpels crazy red optics, I could feel his spider like body crawling up my body. I shuddered, eyes squeezed shut and hands pressed on the sides of my head.

"Miss Raynes." A familiar voice called to me.

It sounded so distant, like it was coming through a tunnel.

Pain. Laughter. Screaming. Burning.

Water. Electricity. Pain. Shivering.

"Miss Raynes!" The voice called again, more concerned.

My throat ached, my ears rang.

I forced my eyes open. I didn't want to remember anymore.

I was rocking back and forth, my arms hugging my body as much as possible with the handcuffs.

Why does my throat hurt?

I glanced around the room. I needed evidence to tell me wasn't in that place.

Three pairs of very worried blue optics hovered a few feet above me.

"Miss Raynes, I'm going to pick you up now so I can scan you for damage. Alright?" Ratchet checked, voice soothing.

"Will you keep your hand open? They held me in their fists. It hurt. I couldn't breathe very well." I admitted. Why would I tell him something like that? Why would I tell him what they did and how it made me feel?

What the pit was wrong with me today?

"I'll keep my hand open." He promised, slowly reaching his hand down, letting it lay next to me. Patiently waiting.

I straightened out, rolling and shuffling awkwardly until I could stand and walk the small distance to his hand. As he promised, he didn't close it into a fist.

A weird tingling ran through my body from head to toe. That must have been his scan.

"No additional damage to what was already reported by previous care." Ratchet announced. "The femme should be stable enough for your questions, Optimus."

I turned to the regal lead bot. He was more beautiful in person. His coloring and flames more brilliant and eye catching. His decal mind blowing. His kind optics looking down at me.

"May I?" Optimus asked, holding a large hand near Ratchet's. " I will also promise to keep an open hand."

I nodded, carefully walking across the fingers that made a makeshift bridge for me.

His hand was warm and comfortable, I noticed as I sat cross legged on his palm. Standing felt weird, like I'd lose balance and fall over.

"What do you want to know, Optimus Prime?" I asked, clearing my throat against the slight rasp I'd developed after my. . .episode.

"How much do you know of us, Miss Raynes?" Optimus asked, eyes intent on my face.

"I know a lot about the Autobots. Ask away." I replied,

"You knew the rest of my name without being told. What else do you know of me?" He asked, leaning his head in.

"Optimus Prime, born Orion Pax, leader of the Autobot faction. Height: twenty eight feet. Weight: four point three metric tons Alternative mode: custom semi truck. Placement of insignia: grill. Primary weapon ion blaster. Favorite past time is studying life in all it's magnificent forms. Considered the youngest of all the Primes ever known and a strong, capable leader whom many follow unquestioningly. Also known for his benevolence and kind spark. Speculated to be the brother of Megatron, deceased leader of the Decepticon faction."

I turned to Jazz. "Designation Jazz. First lieutenant of Optimus Prime. Height: unknown. Weight: unknown. Injured in the battle of Mission City by Megatron himself."

I glanced at Ironhide. "Ironhide: weapons specialist. Height twenty two feet. Weight two point four metric tons. Alt mode GMC Topkick. Primary weapon Ion charged Gatling gun. Favorite past time is blowing up Decepticons. Considered to be the oldest of the Autobots."

My gaze turned to Ratchet. "Ratchet. Medical officer for the Autobots. Height twenty point one feet. Weight two point three metric tons. Alt mode Search and Rescue Hummer H2. Primary weapon detachable bi-directional cutters. Favorite past time is reading. Considered the best Cybertronian medic in existence and has saved many lives both Autobot and Decepticon alike."

"Bumblebe. Autobot scout. Height sixteen point two feet. Weight one point six metric tons. Alt mode Chevrolet Camaro, yellow with black racing stripes. Placement of insignia: center of steering wheel. Primary weapon twin plasma cannons. Favorite past time is 'kickin' it with Sam'. Considered to be the last of the younglings, the term for a youthful bot in the stage between sparkling and adult."

Expressions varied. Ironhide was incredulous, suspicious and had his canons out. Ratchet looked about ready to fall over from shock. Jazz didn't look pleased, possibly from lack of information onhimm compared to the length of knowledge on the others. Optimus looked very concerned.

"What? Was it something I said?" I asked, not liking the looks I was receiving from Ironhide. He looked like he wanted to shoot me, or painfully interrogate me.

"How did you come by this information? How do you know those terms?" Optimus asked, a wary, not quite hard tone to his voice.

I debated. Was it safe to tell them? Should I tell them the crazy theory? Or should I go a less crazy route? I sighed, I'd have to show him. I'd need something first.

"I have something to a how you that will answer your question. I need your word that I'll be safe from the Decepticons." I knew I wasn't in the place to bargain, but once I showed them, I'd be in danger.

"You are in no place to negotiation, human." Ironhide growled.

"Once I show you, I'll be putting a target on my back. I'd rather not die and chance it falling into the wrong hands." I snarled back, glaring at the mech.

"Chance what falling into the wrong hands?" Optimus jumped in, cutting off whatever retort Ironhide had. The Prime eyed me inquisitively.

I sighed and slipped my hands through the sleeves of my shirt.

"What are you doing?" Optimus asked, surprised by my motions.

"Showing you how I got my knowledge." I replied. "If you're uncomfortable, shutter your optics until I say it's safe."

My time with Scalpel had purged me of shyness. I wouldn't be showing off my scars, that was different, I was going to show them the hieroglyphics I'd found etched into the skin of my chest.

I covered all the unimportant bits and displayed the Allspark runes. "This is how."

Ratchet scanned me. "That's impossible. The female has traces of the Allspark energy. The marks are genuine."

"How?" Optimus stared, shocked.

"I bought a necklace with this cool looking rune covered shard on it. I wore it all the time, one day I woke up and I noticed a strange feeling. There were runes on my chest. The exact same ones I'd seen on the shard. The shard itself was gone without a trace, the pieces of necklace still on my neck." I went with the safe road, while also sticking to the truth. "Conclusions?"

"It would appear the Allspark has bonded with the femme." Ratchet offered, more scans running over me.

"Do you mind?" I huffed, glaring at the medic.

"I suggest she remain in medical bay, so I may observe her closely. The effects of the Allspark on her physiology could be disastrous." He replied, ignoring my irritation.

"There's no way I'm going anywhere near that table." I pointed at the metal devil. "Anywhere else is preferable."

A loud grumble punctuated the silence that followed my statement.

Ratchet glared at me. "You have skipped your meal. You will correct this mistake immediately."

"Very well, Ratchet. We will continue questioning after Miss Raynes has adequately cared for her sustenance requirements." Optimus announced, carefully lowering me to the floor. "I will return when Ratchet calls for me."

With that, the regal bot exited med bay, the other two bots following.

Ratchet turned on me and demanded that I march to the mess hall for breakfast. Or was it lunch?

Either way, my guards collected me and steered me out of med bay.

I never said I'd make it easy for them. . .


End file.
